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Rated: E · Short Story · Other · #1316964
What if history didn't work out the way it was supposed to? What if you had to fix it?
         A young man with tousled black hair and wearing a black leather jacket walked into the front lobby of a hospital. He looked around at the pastel-colored walls nervously, pulled his jacket around him more firmly, and walked up to the front desk. His slightly worn jeans and dirtied tennis shoes looked out of place in the immaculate hospital, and he seemed very aware of his obvoiusness.
         He reached the front desk and cleared his throat quietly. "Um..." he said uncertainly, "my, um, wife, is giving birth to our child. I just got the call. Where is the, um, maternity ward?"
         The nurse at the desk smiled. The young man was no longer disturbing the peace, he had a purpose. Suddenly, he was a welcome addition to the hospital. "Oh, so you're a new father, are you? The maternity ward is on the third floor. The elevator is right around the corner here." She gestured with her pen and pushed her reading glasses higher up on her nose. She was slightly plump with a tight blond bun on the top of her head, a very welcoming picture. "Once you get to the third floor, there should be some signs pointing you to the correct area. The nurse up there should be able to help you find the right room."
         "Thank you," the man said, still somewhat nervous. He kept his head ducked, but the nurse caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes hidden under dark brows. As soon as he had gotten directions, though, he headed around the corner toward the elevator. He pushed the call button repeatedly, as if it would help the elevator to get there sooner. The doors to the elevator opened and he jumped inside without even checking to make sure nobody else was inside. Luckily, nobody was. He pushed the button for the third floor and shifted his weight several times, impatient to get to his destination.
         The elevator seemed to take an eternity to get up to the right floor. Once it did, the man jumped out again. He pulled once more on his leather jacket, though the hospital was not very cold. He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head again, avoiding all eye contact. He looked briefly up at the sign that directed visitors and patients toward the correct wards, then turned right. He kept walking until he walked past a large glass window. The window opened onto a room full of young babies, all tended by a single nurse.
         The young man stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at all the children lying in their little cribs. The nurse looked up at him, then went to the door and opened it. "Can I help you?" she asked.
         "My wife," he said, "has just given birth. Would I be permitted to come inside and look at my new daughter?"
         This nurse smiled, too. She held the door open wide, and the young man walked in. He went right to a healthy young girl with bright red hair and wrinkled, pink skin. She was smiling up at the world, cooing happily. A small band around her wrist said that she was the daughter of a "Caroline Haley", but the baby did not seem to have a name of her own yet. The young man looked at the baby for a long time, and when the nurse turned to look at one of the other newborns who was crying, he snatched up the baby girl.
         Before the baby could make a sound, the young man closed his eyes, concentrating hard. Then, he disappeared, making less sound than a robe trailing across a hard stone floor.


         In the year 1533, on a cold autumn day, King Henry VIII was raging mad. His second wife, Anne, had just given birth to a child. The expected son had turned out to be a daughter. They named the child Elizabeth, but they did not expect her to last the night. The dark-haired child was weak and had a very bad cough. She had been taken by a nurse and laid down to rest and probably die on her own in a cold room in the palace.
         The nurse laid the sickly girl in her bed and sighed. The king had one daughter, two wives, and a short temper. It was too bad this one was going to die. Not that it would do much good, anyway. What could a mere girl do to repair the damage being done to England?
         The nurse left the room. At the same time, a young man with dark, tousled hair and a black leather jacket appeared in the shadows of the room. He opened his eyes and sighed in relief. He had done it, that thing that only a few people had the talent to do. He had properly traveled through time, and he was just in time to save history.
         The man almost ran forward to the crib. The child in the crib was cold, pale, and weak. The baby was too tired even to cry at all, all she could do was lightly cough. The man looked down at the healthy girl in his arms, at her bright red hair, and remembered her happy cooing in the hospital.
         The young man gently picked up the sick baby and laid the healthy one in her place. The nurse might say something, but she would probably keep her tongue. At least, that was what history said would happen. The little girl now lying in the crib would survive and become perhaps one of the most celebrated rulers in England's history. She would live a long life and become a great queen.
         The man looked back down at the limp bundle in his arms. He smiled at the tiny baby. He leaned down to the new Elizabeth I and slipped off the tiny papers on her wrist and ankle that said "daughter of Caroline Haley." He put the papers onto the much thinner wrist and ankle of the real Elizabeth I, switched the blankets on the babies, and stepped back into the shadows. He closed his eyes again in concentration, this time smiling with the joy of a job well done. He disappeared again into the depths of time with less noise than a slippered foot walking down a cold corridor.
         The nurse heard the slippered foot and peeked in to check on the young princess. She walked back up to the bed, expecting to see a weak and dying girl. Instead, she found a healthy baby girl with bright red hair. The nurse gasped in shock, then quietly tucked the baby in better with the blanket. This baby had a chance to survive, and it was up to the nurse to make sure she did survive. Never mind the miracle that had made this happen in the first place, it was a gift from God and should not be questioned. The nurse said a quick prayer of thanks and got back to work.



         Back in the hospital, the young man reappeared with a tiny, weak girl in his arms. He laid her back into the crib where a different baby had once laid. The nurse turned around again to look and smile at the young man who now had a huge grin on his face. He looked up at the nurse, then turned back to the baby. He stroked the baby's cheek with one finger.
         Softly, the man whispered, "You're safe now. These people here can take care of you. They can give you the medicine you need to get better, and you will live a happy life, too. I know. I can go back to my time in the future, and I can enjoy the great advances you have made in society. But I won't say any more. It might give you ideas, and I just fix history, I don't make it happen." He smiled once more, then turned to the nurse and nodded. He walked to the door, looked back once more on the little baby girl in the crib, now fast asleep.
         The man smiled on his way to the elevator. He was no longer nervous, he was no longer in a hurry. He had done his job, and history would be the way it was supposed to be. The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and the man stepped quietly in and pushed the button for the first floor.
         The elevator arrived on the first floor and the door opened, but nobody got out. The elevator was already empty, its former occupant already a century away.
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